


Hot Stuff

by a_xmasmurder



Series: What Sherlock Will Lick for Science [5]
Category: Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Experiment, Foodstuff, Gen, Hot sauce, Random - Freeform, Sherlock will do anything for Science, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets John out of bed early for Thai and Cardiff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Stuff

**Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt. Bzzz-**

“Mraghft-fuck...” A hand snuck out of the covers and smacked half of the buttons on the cheap alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, silencing the alarm. “Uuugh...what th’ hell time is it, anyway...” Barely a glimpse of sleep-tousled sand coloured hair peeked out from under the pillow and moved towards the red numbers on the clock face. “Fuckin’ five a.m.? Ugh.”

Sherlock looked up from John’s medical journal. “Yes it is.”

The hair issued a put-upon groan. “Sh’lock, what in th’ blazes are you doin’ in my room?”

“Categorising different sleeping positions. It’s for a case. The Milhouse murder.”

The blankets rustled, and bleary blue eyes blinked out at him. “That...that case is from twenty years ago...”

“Yes. Of course.” The consulting detective slapped the journal shut and stood up. “But it’s interesting and entirely worth my time right now, since Lestrade feels that he doesn’t need to share his most recent case with me.”

Finally, John emerged from the covers, a tan t-shirt covering his upper half. “So you are watching me sleep?”

“Obvious. Aren’t you paying attention?”

“Sherlock, it’s bloody five the fuck o’clock in the morning, on a day I have off and consequently had my alarm shut. Off.” John scrubbed his left hand through his hair. Sherlock took a quick note of how that hand seemed to be stiff and spastic at the moment and tucked the note away in the room in his Mind Palace that was reserved for the left side of his flatmate’s body. “So forgive me if I’m not exactly bright eyed and bushy tailed for you.”

“You fell asleep in your chair.”

“That was a nap, and that also means that I didn’t actually get to sleep until about...” John squinted. “About four hours ago, Jesus, can I just go back to sleep?”

“I set your alarm for a reason. Come on, then, up and at ‘em. I want to get going at six a.m. sharp. Not a moment later.” Sherlock turned, the hem of his blue robe flipping around dramatically, and walked out of the room.

“What? Where the hell...Sherlock, where are we going at six?”

He ducked his head back in. “Cardiff!”

John stared after him, barely awake and blinking ineffectually at the world. He closed his eyes and took a breath. “I’m going to kill him.”

  
  
  
  


“You like Rovers, don’t you?” John sat back in the passenger seat and relaxed. “Well, I shouldn’t actually be surprised that you enjoy driving, should I?”

Sherlock scrunched his nose, a smirk playing at his lips. “Driving is boring, but necessary outside of the city. And as for the choice of vehicle, it’s more your liking than mine. I only chose this particular model because it’s similar to the one we took to Baskerville, and you seemed to enjoy it then, too.”

“Ah, I did?” John cocked his head. “I couldn’t tell over the sound of how awesome you thought you were.”

Sherlock laughed, a low rumble in his chest. “We are stopping at the new Thai place down the road from here before we head out of London. I’m hungry.”

“They’re open this early?” John fiddled with his jacket and peered up through the windscreen. “It’s six a.m., Sherlock.”

“Yes, it is. Very observant, John. And yes, they are open. I called ahead, they have your favourite curry ready. Mine is taking a bit longer, but that is to be expected. It’s a complicated order.” He shifted into drive and rolled away from 221B. Trusting his friend not to get distracted and crash in the early morning traffic, John closed his eyes and tried to get in a tiny nap before he couldn’t anymore. An old habit from the army, but a good one around Sherlock and his knack for getting John up at fuck-all o’clock to hare off to Cardiff, or Leeds, or wherever else struck his fancy.

Around fifteen minutes later, Sherlock was shaking his shoulder and muttering words at him. John opened his eyes with a groan and sat back up. “We there?”

“Yes! Wake up, damn you! There’s food to be had.” Sherlock popped open his door and climbed out with a flourish. John followed, a little more sedately, and they were welcomed into the little shop by an ancient woman who cooed and patted Sherlock on the shoulder. From what John could tell, the smile plastered on Sherlock’s face could have been genuine as he accepted the stack of take-away boxes and cups. He tossed his card at the woman, who grinned up at him and toddled off to the register. Sherlock, surprisingly, didn’t hand off the boxes to John, and John was glad for it. His shoulder was bothering him something fierce. He rolled it, then cringed slightly when Sherlock stared at him.

The woman came back and tossed the card right back at Sherlock, then shooed them both out of her shop. John laughed as he shoved the food onto the passenger side footwell and climbed in after it. “She liked you, I think.”

Sherlock stuck the keys back into the ignition. “Of course she does. I saved her children from a treason charge.”

John stared at Sherlock. “Holy crap. When?”

“A month ago. It was such a simple case, not even worth mentioning. It was a favour to Mycroft.” Sherlock crinkled his nose with distaste. “It got me out of going to Mother’s for Christmas or Hanukkah or whatever she’s celebrating this year.”

“Oh.” John hadn’t known. “I’m sorry?”

“You were busy at the clinic. Took me all of three hours and two pots of tea. And a tin of biscuits, actually, since she sat in your chair and sobbed the entire time.” Sherlock scowled. “At least she had most of the evidence with her.”

“So who was it?”

“Her husband, naturally.” Sherlock reached between John’s legs and grabbed the uppermost box, flicking it open. John stared at it. All it had was little cups of sauces.

“And what’s that, then? For your pho?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Experiment.”

“An experiment?” John cocked his head to the side. “What for?”

Sherlock sighed wistfully. “John, you don’t get it. I don’t need a reason to do an experiment. I just do them. It’s for science, for knowledge, to say that I did -” He stuck a finger into the green sauce and licked it “- it. Mmmm. This is good. Tangy. Not too bad.” He picked a little wet nap out of his side pocket and washed his finger. “But tainted because of my skin oils. You have the sticks, right?”

John reached down and grabbed a handful of them. “She gave you a whole bag of them.”

“I know she did. I asked for them, and paid extra even.” He plucked one pair out and stuck them into the green sauce again, then licked them. “Oh. Perfect. Not as tangy this time. I think it was my skin. Noted. Next.” He took a drink from his water bottle.

“What time do we have to be in Cardiff?”

Sherlock looked up, sticks in his mouth. “Mflargh.” He spat them out. “That one was not good. Later tonight.” He washed his mouth out again and took another sample, this time from a very red sauce.

John grinned and watched as Sherlock’s skin turned a bit red. Sherlock coughed and swallowed.

“That one. Ouch. Right, never again. That was too hot.”

“Tonight?” John finally processed what Sherlock had said. “You mean we didn’t have to get up this early?”

“Of course we did. Had to get here before the sauces got overcooked or tainted.” Sherlock contemplated the sauce with red bits and seeds. “This one looks painful.” He stuck the stick into his mouth, then immediately yelped. “Oh God, yes, painful. Suffering. Oh god.”

John reached for the milk Sherlock had grabbed from the cooler in the shop. “Here.”

“Oh, heavens, thank you. You are brilliant.” Sherlock grabbed it and took a swallow. “Oh, that was not fun. Note to self to only order that one for you. How can you stand that stuff?”

“I like it.”

“You like to suffer, don’t you?”

John grinned again. “Well, I’m still living with you, aren’t I?”

Sherlock smirked. “Of course. How could I be so blind?” He upended the last sauce directly into his mouth, obviously thinking that since it was green that it wasn’t as bad.

John knew better, and had the milk ready again as Sherlock veritably screeched and grabbed for it frantically.

 

 

  
  



End file.
